Part 25 (1/2)
”I do not want another squire, d.a.m.n you!” Wardieu roared, sending a spray of flying crockery against the wall. ”I want Eduard! I want him brought here to me, in chains if need be, and I want to see him without any further delays or excuses!”
”My lord?”
The two men whirled to stare at the door. One of them melted instantly with relief, the other clenched his hands into fists and advanced ominously toward the guileless figure who stood there.
”Where” the Dragon seethed, ”by G.o.d's holy ordinance, have you been?”
Eduard looked calmly from the seneschal to his master, to the raven-haired Nicolaa de la Haye who was lounging close by in a tunic so red it burned the eyes.
”I ... was at the armourers,” Eduard said, glancing back at Wardieu. ”I was ensuring your lances were all-”
”Liar!” The flat of De Gournay's hand lashed out and caught the squire on the side of his face, smas.h.i.+ng him sideways against the stone wall. ”You were not at the armourers! You have not been seen at the armourers since yesterday!”
Eduard straightened, his hand cupped to his mouth to catch the slippery warmth of blood that flowed from his torn lip. He was dazed and reeling slightly; his cheek and forehead had struck hard against the stone, and the flesh was serrated a raw red.
”I will only ask once more,” De Gournay threatened. ”Where have you been all night and morning? And I warn you now, if you dare another lie, I will have the skin flayed from your body in b.l.o.o.d.y strips.”
Eduard's gray eyes flickered with pain, but did not waver from Wardieu's.
”I was with the maid Glyneth,” he said hoa.r.s.ely. ”I ... we we overslept, my lord, and I have just been explaining to Mary, the cook, that the fault was mine and Glyneth should be spared a beating.” overslept, my lord, and I have just been explaining to Mary, the cook, that the fault was mine and Glyneth should be spared a beating.”
”You have been wenching?” Nicolaa asked with a wry sneer. ”How positively true to the Wardieu bloodlines.”
”Nicolaa-have you nowhere else to be right now?”
”My, my,” she said, the narrowed green eyes slicing to De Gournay. ”We are full of vinegar this morning, are we not? Two servants sent for a flogging because they spilled a few crumbs of bread. A guard railed for a torn tunic and ... dear oh dear ... now a lad knocked half senseless for sharing one of your own favorite pastimes. Is it a simple case of nerves, my lord, or is it due to the glaring tardiness of a certain other yellow-haired insolent?”
De Gournay's teeth appeared in a brief snarl, but a pat pat of blood from Eduard's hand dripped onto the floor and earned a scathing glance instead. ”Get yourself cleaned up and fetch the Lady Servanne down from her tower rooms. Tell her I expect her to be ready and waiting to accompany me to the fields within the hour, regardless of her state of dress or undress!” of blood from Eduard's hand dripped onto the floor and earned a scathing glance instead. ”Get yourself cleaned up and fetch the Lady Servanne down from her tower rooms. Tell her I expect her to be ready and waiting to accompany me to the fields within the hour, regardless of her state of dress or undress!”
When Eduard departed, De Gournay turned to the seneschal, who had dearly hoped he had been forgotten.
”Find this wench Glyneth and question her yourself. If she gives you any reason to doubt his story, I want to know it without delay.”
”Aye, my lord.” Frowning, the seneschal left and Nicolaa arched a brow.
”Rather sanctimonious of you to be so suspicious, is it not? Or is there something you are not telling me?”
”There have just been too many coincidences lately, and I would sooner not be surprised by any more.”
Prince John smiled lazily. ”I trust you will convey my heartfelt thanks to my dear mother for her ... generous contribution to the expenses incurred during my niece's visit.” He hefted the lid on the small chest of glittering gold coins and equally bright sparks of greed were mirrored in the depths of the squinted, dark eyes. ”Ahh yes, very generous.”
Randwulf de la Seyne Sur Mer stood tall and silent before the prince, his body clad in various textures of black from linen to leather to the gleaming black silk of his hood. Behind him was a phalanx of armoured knights who stood facing the prince's men, glower to glower, watchful eye to watchful eye.
”The Princess Eleanor?” La Seyne asked.
John stared thoughtfully at the gold for a moment, then flicked a hand vapidly at one of the guards. The knight nodded and turned curtly to a narrow door, opened it, and gestured someone to come through.
The Princess Eleanor of Brittany was eight years old and trying very hard to be brave. Wakened before dawn this morning, she had been helped into her clothes by the coa.r.s.e-handed, foul-mouthed trull her uncle had a.s.signed as waiting-woman. She had not been told where she was going or what to expect at the end of the anxious, hour-long wait in a small, airless anteroom.
Her thin frame had grown even thinner in the four months since she had been abducted from Mirebeau. She had stubbornly kept her lips firmly shut for all but the barest necessities of food and communication, using silence as her solace and her defense. To her secret pleasure, she had discovered her lack of response and animation riled her uncle John more than any other form of temperament. This, combined with the searingly blue Plantagenet eyes that were never remiss in frosting over with icy hatred when directed at her uncle, made John blatantly relieved to be ridding himself of her.
Eleanor was ushered through the door and stood a moment, blinking to adjust her eyes to the brighter light. She saw the guards-far too many of them for a normal meeting with her uncle-and it took a second fearful look around for her to realize fully half of them wore the colours of La Seyne Sur Mer! Startled, she searched the lines of grim, solemn faces until she saw the one she had hoped and prayed to see all these months of captivity. Sir Randwulf! He had come! He had come to rescue her just as she had known he would!
La Seyne saw the little princess and felt a wave of relief wash through him. She appeared to be unharmed-a trace thinner, perhaps, and unaccustomed to smiling-but unharmed.
Eleanor darted eagerly forward. One of John's guards flashed out a hand to bar her path and immediately, from La Seyne's guard, a score of calloused hands flew instinctively to the hilts of their swords.
”As you can see,” John drawled, ”my niece is in perfect health. She will be given into your care directly, La Seyne, but first ... you have no objections if a Jew counts the gold for me? In these trying times, with chicanery so rife, one can never be too careful, even when dealing with relatives. Especially relatives.”
La Seyne absorbed the slight with nary a ripple of muscle. Not so his men, who bristled visibly at this further insult-so much so that this time it was John's guards who inched their hands nervously toward their swords.
”I'll not keep you, however,” the prince offered generously. ”I know you have much to do to prepare for the tourney this afternoon, so if you would prefer simply to leave one of your men in charge-?”
”I will wait.” La Seyne scowled, the chill in the fireless room giving his words a ghostly substance through the black silk.
John, warmed by his thick velvet doublet as well as well as his smug self-satisfaction, leaned back and formed a tent with his gloved fingers, the tips pressed against his lips. ”It should take no more than an hour or two. For a moneylender, he tends to count slowly to avoid any chance of error.”
La Seyne crossed his arms over his chest, presenting a formidable tower of immovable strength. Inwardly he was thinking: If it was a ploy to unsettle him before the match, it was a feeble effort at best. Outwardly, he let the silk mask crease in an imitation of a smile. ”I will wait.”
Servanne jumped when she heard the knock on the outer door. Both she and Biddy were standing by one of the tall, arched windows and, as one, they reached for the comforting grasp of each other's hands.
”Who comes?” Biddy called, her voice querulous but remarkably firm. She had had to ponder a great deal in the past few hours-from the Wolf's ident.i.ty, to the confirmed proof of Etienne Wardieu's duplicity, to the very real possibility they could all be betrayed, beheaded, and their corpses left to rot on spiked poles by way of example to others.
The sight of De Gournay's young squire brought another quailing start to Biddy's breast, a condition augmented by the puffed, split bruises on Eduard's face.
”Eduard!” Servanne gasped, leaving the embrasure to rush to the young man's side. ”What happened!”
”'tis nothing, my lady. It is your welfare, not mine, which concerns me more.”
”My lamb's welfare?” Biddy exclaimed, hurrying over. ”What do you mean?”
”There is no time for explanations, mistress goodwife. Only know that the Dragon's mood does not bode well for anyone who chooses to cross him this day. He is already in a rampage over the messages my lady has sent to explain her absences at chapel and table this morning. He has been pacing like a caged lion in his chamber all this time, refusing to appear without you by his side. To that end, he has given me explicit instructions not to return to the hall without you.”
A small flaring of defiance sent a flush into Servanne's cheeks. ”How dare he issue such orders. I am not his chattel. Not yet, at any rate.”
Biddy was more practical. ”Eduard-what trouble do you antic.i.p.ate?”
”Too much for any of us to handle alone, but do not fear, Mistress Bidwell. I will not let the b.a.s.t.a.r.d touch a hair on my lady's head; on this you have my word.”
Servanne pressed cool fingers to her temple. ”It is not for my safety I fear the most. Eduard-we must find some way of warning your father ... your real real father; the real Lucien Wardieu. There is no telling what Etienne may do now out of desperation to keep his secret intact. He will set a trap, at the very least-a trap your father will walk into blindly unless he is forewarned.” father; the real Lucien Wardieu. There is no telling what Etienne may do now out of desperation to keep his secret intact. He will set a trap, at the very least-a trap your father will walk into blindly unless he is forewarned.”
”You will have to warn him, my lady,” Eduard said.
”Me? Willingly, but ... how?”
Eduard retraced his steps to the door and retrieved a bundle of clothing neither woman had seen him set on the floor when he arrived.